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Friday, November 14, 2014

Notes On Feeling Fat

Notes On Feeling Fat

I did something that took some nerve yesterday. I looked at myself naked in a full length mirror. Frontal and side view. I’ve avoided doing it for years and I finally got tired of being such a coward and did the deed. I looked.

It was disturbing but also liberating. I’m sixty five years old; age is happening to my body. I won't be one of those people who cling to youth with frantic denial. I want to enjoy being a cranky old man who groans and says "Fech!" Things could be much worse. All the flab has settled around my mid-section, leaving my shoulders, arms and legs looking okay.. I weigh two

hundred and stand five foot eight. I “carry my weight well”, so I’ve been told. I’m not a waddling fire plug. I’m more like a bear or a gorilla. These creatures don’t have tapering waistlines.

It’s the fault of the medications. That’s what I tell myself. The medicines changed my metabolism. I got heavy after I started taking the medications for my leg neuropathy and ...all those other things.

Forget the compulsive bed-time eating, the appetite for Reese’s Pieces and

Nestle’s Crunch. Never mind the yum yum indulgence of putting peanut butter on Ritz Crackers and tossing down half a roll. I ride a bicycle every day, three sixty five. I know, you hate me. I also do a daily yoga practice. I know, you hate me even more.

It’s a case of good disciplines counteracting bad habits.

I am a disciplined compulsive. Is that a paradox? Try living with it.

Is anyone else like this? Is anyone locked in a struggle between the rational and irrational parts of themselves? I’m killing myself while saving my life. I’m a suicidal yogi health food candy addict.

Am I the only baby boomer with a past full of addictions and recoveries?

Am I the only sixty-something with chronic pain in at least two parts of my body?

Am I the only man who feels conned and imprisoned by the pharmaceutical companies because I have to take meds for blood pressure, depression and physical pain? These meds have saved and restored my quality of life. They’ve also made me a prisoner.

I feel as if I’ve loaned out my body as a lab rat and everything will stay cool as long as I keep running on the treadmill.

My belly’s been large for twenty years. I’m a husky strong man. What will body shame get me? Nothing. Avoiding my reflection in the mirror is absurd., I don’t know what I really look like. Each gaze into my reflected image is so loaded with ingrained value judgments, fantasies and delusions that it’s pointless to obsess on my appearance. I just don’t know and never will know what I look like. Furthermore, I don’t look the same to any two people. Nothing does! So what the fuck?

I’ve made a deal with my belly. I talk to it. Belly, I say, you are a part of me, you are a product of genetics, lifestyle and a thousand other factors. You and I will have have to get along. Let’s be friends. It’s obvious you’re not going anywhere.

3 comments:

I have mirror avoidance syndrome as well. I also continually poisen/ heal myself. Being 60 something sucks, but everyone always says its better than the alternative!I wish there was another alternative than The Alternative!

Yeah, you know last few years I haven't been looking in the mirror that much. I like my big belly and being a big guy, though, even if other people don't. I can really relate to what you're saying, Art, especially about being a disciplined compulsive. Men need to own their bodies as they age. Being a big strong man doesn't have to mean disrespecting women.

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